For The Audience
by codependency
Summary: Maybe, after all, he was just a piece in their games. No matter how hard he tried, that was all he was ever going to be. — Peeta/Katniss, for Nona.


This is for Nona (pineapple girl 1997) as she is evil and won't let me under her umbrella when it's raining unless I bribe her with fanfiction. Here is your Peeniss, Nona. ;) I don't own the hunger games.

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"_One more time? For the audience?"_

-Peeta, to Katniss; The Hunger Games

**. **

He takes her hand one last time, he squeezes it tight and raises it in the air along with hers, watching their District welcome them home. He should be happy, he should be happy, but he's not. He's survived the Hunger Games—and Katniss came home with him, but he's not happy, not in the least. He might as well have died in the arena, he's dead to her, she doesn't care, she doesn't know how much she means to him.

Maybe she cares, but he doesn't think he can wait around to figure out whether or not she does. It's too painful, it hurts too much knowing that what he lived in the arena, the moments that were so real to him, were all acting, all fake, all just for the audience.

Just for the audience… is that all it ever was for her? Just for them, putting it on? He blinks back tears; he's not letting himself cry. He's a Victor now, he reminds himself, he's a Victor and he's meant to be brave, he's meant to stand up for himself and be strong.

The District cheers, and he spots his family in the crowd. His father smiling, nodding to his son, a silent congratulations. His brothers, standing there, waving to him, showing that they're happy that he's back. He compares it with the enthusiastic waving and cheering coming from Prim, from Gale, from Katniss' mother. He keeps a smile on his face. Maybe he can act just as well as Katniss, maybe if he tries.

They disembark the train, and he looks at Katniss, and he feels as if a thousand lifetimes rush by, just in that one glance. She turns away, and runs towards her family, hugging them, and Peeta's eyes can't help but linger on the hug she shares with Gale. His family approach him, and he allows the Peacekeepers to escort him to his new home.

He watches Katniss leave with her family, and he smiles, knowing that the cameras are still there, people are watching, people are looking. He still can't believe that it was always just for the audience, never for the two of them, only for the Capitol.

Maybe, after all, he was just a piece in their games. No matter how hard he tried, that was all he was ever going to be.

(He just didn't expect to be a piece in Katniss' games as well.)

.

His new house is horrible. He can't bring himself to call it a home, because he doesn't think he has a home anymore. The bakery was never his home, the arena could hardly be called a home, but the closest place he's ever had to a home would be the cave he spent all those nights with Katniss in. It's useless, thinking of it, useless thinking of what-ifs and could-have-beens. She doesn't love him, he loves her, it was all for the audience and everything was just for the games.

It all swirls around in his mind. Even in his dreams, he can't escape it. The nightmares of the Games are there, bright and clear, each drop of blood blinding, but the dreams with Katniss are blurred, inconsistent, and they're making Peeta wonder whether or not they're real.

**. **

They don't talk anymore, and that hurts him. He wishes they could still be friends, but they were never friends before, so why start now? He sees her around the District, he spots her slipping through the fence, bringing back game. After a while, he no longer sees her with Gale. He wonders why, and then he can't bring himself to care.

It's as though she's following him around, popping up in all the places he is. Even in his dreams, he can't escape her, and a part of him doesn't even want to. He knows that she doesn't love him, he knows that she can _never _love him, but a part of him can't help but hope that one day she will. Hope is always there, but he doesn't want to cling on to it, doesn't want to get his hopes up too high. They'll get dashed down, dashed to the ground like everything else in his life has since he was reaped.

(In between all of his thinking about Katniss, he still can't live with himself because he's killed children, children who didn't deserve to die.)

**. **

It was all for the audience, and he's trying to accept it, he really is. He tells himself that he's forgotten her, but he still catches his mind crossing over to how Katniss' hair looked when it was braided, her beautiful eyes, the way it felt when she kissed him, how safe he felt when she was in his arms.

He thinks of the berries, he thinks of how Katniss saved both of them, he thinks of how strong, how beautiful, how _radiant _she is. He looks at other girls around the District. He could have any of them, all of them would _kill _to be with him, but he can't feel anything when he looks at them, or at least nothing like he feels when he even _thinks _of Katniss.

He's never going to have anything with anyone like what he had with Katniss. He's trying to accept it, but he can't.

He busies himself with thoughts of the victory tour, busies himself with painting, painting the horrific dreams of the Hunger Games, painting Katniss, her braid over her shoulder, and she's smiling. Those are the happier paintings, but they make him cry the most.

Maybe he should just give in. Maybe he should just give in and cry, cry for everything he's lost, and everything he's never going to get.

Katniss has slipped out of his reach, slipped out of his reach forever. Maybe he should just accept that.

* * *

_but it's over now_

_go on and take a bow_

_-_Take a Bow; Rihanna

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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please don't favourite without reviewing. :)


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